Home
by Resa Hemoor
Summary: Three times the Doctor told Amelia Pond to go home.  The one time she did.


**Title:** Home

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Three times the Doctor told Amelia Pond to go home. One time she did.

**Characters(And/Or Pairings) :** Amelia P. /Amy, The Doctor. Rory. No Pairings.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for Season Five

**A/N:** This is my second Fanfiction, and my first Doctor Who fic. I realize that this might be a tad overdone, but I couldn't help myself. Really. Enjoy! Also, I am a disclaimer. *tear*

**Word Count**: 607

_The Very First Time…._

It had been aboard the Starwhale. Amelia was not sure why she chose to keep the information from the Doctor. She trusted him with her life…yet, she would not let him make the choice between millions of human beings, and one creature that had so much (and yet so little) in common with him

It was a choice she regretted. Or, at least she regretted it once she discovered that she had actually made it. "After this, you're going home." The Doctor had said. It hurt her, but she said nothing in reply. Maybe he was right.

_You don't decide what I don't and do know, _a valuable lesson, for she knew now that keeping secrets from the Doctor was a mistake indeed, she still wished she could remember, though….

_The Second Time_

It was a while later, after the so-called 'Vampires' but before what the Doctor commonly referred to as _The Dream Incident. _ A normal day in the TARDIS, that is, until the Doctor had come strutting in, seeming…victorious.

"Ah, good morning, Ponds."

"Actually—Amy!"

Amelia had given Rory a sharp jab with her elbow. She loved him, she really did, but he really did need to learn to _shut up_ sometimes.

"Married life!" The Doctor droned, somewhat dramatically. "I'm terribly sad that our adventures are over. Maybe I'll come and visit sometimes.

Rory seemed ready to fling himself out the TARDIS's door in joy. The glance that Amy gave him was enough to stop him dead. She turned to face the Doctor. The look on her face was murderous. It was _pissed. _

"No." She said simply.

"No?" The Doctor asked. He had already anticipated her anger, but Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And, grasping the situation, turned beet red and muttered something under his breath about Amy being…mean? "No. That's right, of course not."

And so it was, that Amelia Pond and her soon-to-be husband Rory Williams (who was also soon to be dubbed Pond II) settled back into the TARDIS, not planning to leave anytime soon.

_The Third Time_

"You're leaving." The Doctor said stoically. Amelia wasn't sure why. There was something important. She had forgotten something—no, someone—important. But what?

"Doctor!" she laughed. "I don't understand. Calm down! I'm not leaving, there's still so much to see. So much to do!" Amy tossed her arms to the sky in a gesture that symbolized, "The Universe"

The Doctor sighed sadly and turned back to the TARDIS's control module. And as he did, Amelia realized that this was more than another one of his 'You deserve better than this' fits. It was something more.

As she lay in bed that night, Amy felt something damp on her cheek. She touched it. A tear, just one. She was crying. It didn't occur to her to wonder why. The tears fit her mood. Sad. Depressed. Like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on.

But even then, she still wouldn't leave.

_The One Time She Did_

"Home." The Doctor said softly. "It's time for you to go home." He dreaded the departure of his longest-standing companion. But it was for the best, after all. She would live the rest her of her life normally. Crossing the street would not be fraught with danger.

But it was then that Amelia said the only thing that could make him feel better. "You're right, Doctor. I can't stay here anymore. There are too many memories." She gave the Doctor a watery smile. "So, I was thinking. River told me about this breakfast buffet in France in 1820. Shall we?" She held out her arms. One for the Doctor, the other for Rory, and together, arm-in-arm, they walked home.

**Thoughts? Prompts? A Desperate Need to Rant?**


End file.
